


Pure

by melitta4ever



Series: Pure [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Demon Blood Addiction, F/M, Heavy Angst, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-16
Updated: 2015-06-16
Packaged: 2018-04-04 15:36:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 6
Words: 15,251
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4143159
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/melitta4ever/pseuds/melitta4ever
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>During 4.21 -When The Levee Breaks, spoilers up to there... AU in which Castiel cannot bust Sam out of the panic room, and Bobby comes with a plan B for Sam's addiction… includes blood-thirsty Sam, ever-giving Dean and some strong Hoodoo magic. Rated E for the language and eventual slash, incest, non-con… the whole nine yard.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Bleeding me

**Author's Note:**

> Here is my first SPN fic from FF.net in July'11.
> 
> Note from the original: 4.21 was one of the saddest episode for me, I cannot handle it when the brothers are so harsh to each other. I decided to write my own version; but it somehow ended up even harsher than the canon! I am afraid angst is in the boys’ destiny =(  
> Special thanks to OnlyWishedYouKnew, for super-fast beta-ing.
> 
> Chapter title is from 7th track on Metallica's 1996 album "Load"

Sam’s screams faded long ago but unfortunately it was not the good sign Dean was waiting for. Sam was losing his connection with this world, with his life. He was slipping into a deep coma from which, Dean was afraid, he might not wake up. His addiction was stronger than they anticipated and Dean was now seriously considering Bobby’s warnings that his brother might not ditch this addiction without losing his life.

After they had caught Cass’ treachery and stopped him before he could let Sam free, Dean was more hopeful; thinking –no, praying- that their luck finally turned. However, his brother’s torment was not getting any less, but only more. Dean knew he could not let him die like this, regardless of what he had said earlier, yet did not know how he could prevent it. He was seriously thinking about aborting this cold turkey detoxification when Bobby walked in the room, in a strangely good mood:

“I knew it!” He was grinning like a kid in the candy store.

“What’s that?” Dean let a beam of hope lurk in him.

“I finally found a healer who might help Sam” Bobby explained, “A Hoodoo priestess, she is THE top dog when it comes to cleansing casts.”

“Are we gonna ask help from a witch now?”

“Oh don’t be such a dick! She ain’t no witch, she is a healer. Apparently she helped many addicts all over the country and, most importantly, right now she is only 2 hours away, in an addiction clinic.”

“So you are saying that the demon blood is in the renewed NA substances list?” Dean was skeptic; he was tired of running after false hopes.

“Stop whining and go get her now!” Bobby demanded. He was aware of Dean’s pain but his own was no different. He hated seeing the youngest Winchester in a coma which was induced by their so called treatment. Sam was lying unconscious almost a week now and every time he looked at him, Bobby saw that shy 4 years old boy; clenched to his brother when the first time John had brought them to him. He could still picture the Sam’s –blond back then- head buried in books half his size… the smile radiating from his cute face when he had solved a puzzle… the sorrow he could not conceal when his father and big brother had left him for yet another hunt… Bobby loved Sam more than he could admit, and there was no way he would let him die. No matter what Dean had said.

Bobby squeezed the older brother’s shoulder with understanding. Dean got the address and left the house without saying another word. Even if it was a false hope, he needed to get away from the house and 4 hours’ drive in his baby is the best he could get right now.

xxx

“Fucking garrulous bitch!” Dean grumbled driving back. He had had to spend more than an hour trying to explain their problem to the old witch. For some reason Bobby had forgotten(!) to mention the language barrier. The old lady was speaking a language Dean was not aware of its existence and her translator/granddaughter was away for a concert in Minneapolis. After the initial trial –and severe failures- to describe the demon-blood addiction, Dean had given up explaining the problem. Luckily, the witch was more into the money than the addiction type she was supposed to cure, and had accepted to come with him. Everything had been alright till she had started matchmaking for her granddaughter with her very, very limited English. She did not stop even for a whole minute during the 2 hours’ drive which was quite surprising since her vocabulary contained less than 100 words at max! She kept talking about her precious little granddaughter while shoving her pictures in front of Dean’s eyes, not considering the little technicality that a driver was supposed to see the road. Dean hated witches.

“Here you are! What took you so long?” Bobby asked opening the door. He was going to tease Dean a bit longer but the “I’m so pissed off!” expression on the young man’s face stopped him.

“I hope you can speak _healer_ , Bobby. Otherwise we have to wait till the little princess is back from her precious concert.”

“I can’t speak Yoruba either.” said Bobby, shrugging his shoulder. “But don’t think we are gonna have a chat with her. We are going to show her Sam, and let her do her mojo.”

“Hope you are right” Dean said while getting a cold beer from the fridge. He really needed one.

xxx

It turned out that Bobby was right. After seeing Sam -and way too much touching, in Dean’s book- the healer immediately started her demands. She was good on explaining her needs in spite of her lack of vocabulary. Where the hand gestures were not enough, she drew crude cartoons to make her demands clear. Luckily most of the ingredients she required were with her; in those heavy bags that Dean had to carry in and out of Impala while cursing at their weight. After preparing some mixtures with the herbs she asked them to build a fire in Bobby’s yard.

“Isn’t she supposed to do, I don’t know, stuff to Sam? What is she doing here in the yard?” Dean asked; he did not trust witches.

“You got me” replied Bobby, “all we can do now is pray she can do it right.” He understood Dean’s doubts; but Bobby needed this hope… their only hope, Sam’s only hope.

The old woman was now in a trance; staring right into the flames. Her chanting turned into a tribal song and she was rocking side to side with its rhythm. Every now and again, the fire was bursting into flames; but she was sitting there indifferently as if in an important conversation. After a while she got up, put out the fire, walked towards Bobby and with her broken English said:

“Horry!”

“Hurry what?!” Dean jumped in, “What happened?”

“Time no much…no much… horry…”

“OK” Bobby intervened, “Tell us what to do.”

The healer tried to explain:

“I make mediciony. You find blad. Horry!”

“That’s quite explanatory!” Dean mocked despite Bobby’s disapproval.

“You mean blood? What blood? Sheep, cow, cat…” Bobby asked.

“No, no shep. Kid bload. You find kid, I make mediciony”

“Whoa, lady! I am not gonna let you bleed a kid for your witchcraft.” Dean was getting angry. He knew trusting a witch was a bad idea from the beginning. He repeated himself using simple words so that she too can understand:

“No kid blood. No kid!”

The healer shook her shoulder indifferently, and murmured:

“Horry… no time.”

“Are grownups not OK?” Bobby asked. After using both his arms to describe a kid and a grown up man, the healer finally understood their concern:

“Cleen bload OK. Puere bload. Kid bload, puere.” She summarized her concerns.

“Huh, if all she needs was clean blood, why was she asking for kid’s blood? I am telling you these witches are not trustworthy Bobby. The only thing she need is some freaking blood not from a demon but she…” The healer cut Dean’s words in panic:

“No deemon! No deemon! Cleen bload, puere!” she kept yelling. “Horry.”

“OK, OK freaking witch. We got it, no demon blood, but clean, pure human blood.” She left them where they are and walked toward the house as fast as her old legs allowed. Bobby shared a nervous look with Dean and asked:

“You know, maybe we should …”

“You are not seriously thinking of giving Sam a boy to bleed, right? Right!” Dean was getting really annoyed. “I prefer him to suck that fucking demon whore instead.”

“No, of course I am not thinking of giving him a kid. What do you think I am? I was going to suggest angel blood. She said clean blood and ...”

“Angels… seriously? Those dicks? Do you really consider them clean?”

“We can ask Anna. She is, well… different?”

“No Bobby…! Never…! I don’t want Sammy to get tainted with another fucking creature. What the witch needs is pure human blood, no demon, no magical shit in it. I will give my blood, being next of kin that’s the only meaningful thing to do.”

“Yeah. You are right, I guess.” Bobby agreed. “Let’s check what she needs for the medicine. Apparently we don’t have much time.”

“When did we have plenty of time?” Dean grumbled while walking after Bobby.

xxx

At the time she was done with the preparations, the healer looked like a walking corpse. Dean could never imagine how much energy –OK, not witches- healers put into their spells. It took her the whole night to prepare a powder mix, with constant chanting and crazy spells. Now she was trying to explain how to use it to Bobby using her childish drawings. Bobby made a gesture to Dean when they were done. She was still murmuring something about ‘hurrying up’ and ‘clean blood’ but Bobby stopped her; making her understand that everything was under control. She quit talking but Dean could not decide whether it was because she finally got what Bobby said or because she was so beaten up that could not really argue any longer. Dean tried to help her to go to her bed by holding her arm, but realized the old woman did not have enough energy to even lift her foot. He, then, just got her into his arms as if she was an oversized baby and carried her up to her room. She was already asleep when he put the blanket on her.

When Dean was back downstairs, Bobby was waiting for him with the healing powder on his hands.

“Are you sure about this Dean?” he asked one last time.

“What kind of a question is that? Of course I am sure!”

“The thing is… he is supposed to drink it directly from your body… suck your blood from your flesh.” Bobby explained; his discomfort was clearly visible.

“Like a freaking vampire, huh?” Dean’s eyes sulked accompanying a bitter smile. Why did his baby brother always end up with freaks, all the time? Even saving him was freaky! “ _Like a fucking vampire!”_ he repeated quietly. But he was not going to turn back now. “I am not gonna let him do this thing to anyone else. And I am sure not gonna let him die like this.” His voice was determined.

“OK. The main idea is -if I understand it correctly- that we cut you enough to bleed, sprinkle this powder on the cut and let Sammy drink as much as he can. The main thing is to keep feeding him as much as he wants.” He gave a concerned look at Dean. “Ready?”

Dean just nodded and walked to the panic-room, to his brother. He cut a slit on his arm, deep enough so that his blood immediately pooled around the cut. Bobby sprinkled the healing powder on the wound.

“Damn!!!” Dean jerked with the unexpected pain; the powder burned his flesh like acid salts. “This shit burns like hell!”

“Stop bitching like an old lady” mocked Bobby; a failed attempt to lighten the mood in the room.

“Bobby…” He did not know how to say. “Can you please… not watch?” Dean asked his eyes on the floor. Bobby understood. He was not too keen to see the boy sucking his brother’s blood anyway.

“I’ll be right outside. Just call me if you need anything.”

After Bobby had left the room, Dean got close to his brother. Sam was lying still, soaked in his sweat, barely breathing. A pain, much sharper than the one on his arm, filled his heart. His Sammy was dying...

“Everything is going to be all right little brother.” He pleaded, trying to convince himself rather than Sam. He brought his arm close to his brother’s mouth and asked gently, “Come on Sammy; hope you’ll like it.” Dean smeared his blood over Sam’s mouth. For a while nothing changed in Sam’s condition, but gradually he started to show some signs that he was alive. He slightly opened his mouth, searching for more blood and slowly sucked his brother’s arm. With every drop he swallowed, Sam appeared to have more energy. After a little while, he was sucking so hard that Dean felt his flesh was tearing out, being pulled into the powerful mouth. His cut was throbbing with pain and definitely swollen big time with the persistent pressure Sam kept applying. Suddenly, he felt Sam’s tongue poking into his open wound, searching for more blood. The pain was getting heavier than Dean could handle.

“Easy Sammy, easy boy…” he begged. But Sam’s tongue kept pushing into the violated cut, dragging the burning powder deep into his already abused flesh, elevating Dean’s torment. Sam was devouring him with a great appetite; but Dean could not pull his arm back. He just could not take away the only thing that made his brother look alive for more than a week. He gritted his teeth and sucked it in, as a good soldier. All of a sudden, Sam stopped sucking. Dean realized in horror that his brother could not breathe; Sam’s mouth was filled with some dark and gooey liquid. He was desperately trying to cough to get rid of it. Dean panicked. He needed to lift his brother up so that Sam could spew the goo, but Sam’s arms were fastened to the bed and were not allowing him to rise.

“Bobby, Bobby!” he cried in panic while trying to get his brother free. Bobby stormed into the room and, without losing time he started working on Sam’s other arm. They raised Sam in seconds. The black goo was now coming from the young man’s nose as well as his mouth, making it impossible for him to inhale some air.

“Come on Sammy, you can do this. Come on boy… my boy… Sammy, I got you Sammy, I got you” Dean was frantic, tapping his brother’s back to help him cough, holding him still through the painful spasms. After minutes of struggle finally Sam caught his breath, spat every last bit of the goo out and fell down to the bed like a stone. He was so quiet that for a moment Dean thought he lost his brother. But Bobby felt his pulse:

“He is still with us boy. Don’t worry.”

“What the hell was that Bobby? What the hell! He was choking on my blood?!”

“I don’t think this mess is your blood boy.” Bobby explained while poking the goo on the floor. “I think your blood made his body really uncomfortable for the demon bitch’s stuff.” He squeezed Dean’s arm to offer some comfort. “He’ll go through this Dean. He is a strong young man.”

Dean looked at his worn-out brother. He nodded in disbelief. Sam looked even worse than he had been before the blood treatment.

“Come on boy, let’s tend your wound. It looks terrible.” Dean looked at his arm; the slit he had cut was now almost twice in size, swollen and completely discolored.

“Yeah, let’s do it.”

Bobby brought his first aid kit, cleaned and bandaged Dean’s arm. Before they were finished, they heard Sam’s whimper.

“Sammy” Dean jumped next to his brother, removed his wet hair from his face. “I am here Sammy.” But Sam could not answer.

“He needs more Bobby!” Dean yelled, and without losing any time cut a –bigger this time- slit on his right arm.

“Maybe we should take turns…?” Bobby was asking; then realized Dean was already over with it. He did not continue the argument; he knew that Dean would never allow anyone to do this other than himself. Dean did not bother to answer; his concentration was focused only on his brother.

“Thanks Bobby. I’ll let you know if I need anything.” Dean managed to say between his teeth, when Bobby was done sprinkling the powder. The fucking thing was burning crazy.

As soon as Bobby left the room, Dean put his arm on his brother’s mouth, letting his blood wet Sam’s dry lips one more time. After tasting the first drop, Sam caught his brother’s bleeding flesh and immediately started sucking as if he was dying of thirst. Dean was ready for the pain from the last experience, but apparently Sam’s appetite grew since then. He was almost chewing his brother’s arm to increase the blood flow using his lips, tongue, teeth, and kept exploiting Dean’s already aching flesh.

“Easy Sam… Sammy, easy man! Easy Sam…” Dean was trying to reach his brother to let him realize the situation he was in, but his words were not reaching his Sammy.

“Damn it Sam!” Dean screamed when Sam sunk his teeth into the wound while pressing Dean’s arm onto his mouth with both of his -now free- hands. Bobby called from outside with concern:

“Is everything all right Dean?”

“Yeah… I’m good” Dean managed to communicate. The throbbing sensation in his arm was getting worse every second and Dean did not know how much longer he could allow his brother to abuse him like this. But before long, Sam was in another coughing span, spitting black goo.

After it was over Dean helped Sam to lie down. His brother was gone again. Sweat, blood and the dark smudges of the goo were covering his pretty face and hair; making him look even weaker than he actually was. Dean cleaned his brother’s face gently; caressed the persistent hair to unveil the tired face and put a very gentle kiss on his forehead.

“We have to take care of that arm boy.” Bobby walked in the room pointing Dean’s abused arm, “Otherwise it might go south.” Dean only nodded without removing his gaze from his brother’s face.

“Feel so guilty Bobby…” Dean finally broke the silence. Bobby gave him a curious look while patching the wound.

“I was angry at him because he was fooling around with a demon. But I am such a hypocrite, Bobby! This is what we all did; his family, the ‘bright(!)’ examples in front of him. It started with mom, then dad and I continued the family legacy of dealing with demons. But when he went after our footsteps, I made him feel like he is the freak!”

“Come on Dean,” Bobby intervened “he hooked up on demon blood, boy. It ain’t the same thing.”

“Yeah, as if it is way worse than selling his soul!” Dean bawled; but realized his mistake right away. “Sorry I did not mean to yell at you. It’s just… I’m angry at myself. I sold my soul, Bobby… I left my brother here alone, with the horrible guilt to carry -I know that guilt, I know it very well. Not to mention I started the freaking seal-breaking frenzy while I was down there… and now I am getting angry at my brother because of what? He hooked up to demon blood instead of blue label.”

“This was not on you Dean. He is a grown man; he can make his own decision. It was HIS choice.”

“Yes, of course… Other than the fact that when he was just a baby, a fucking demon got into his nursery and infected him with his damn blood… yeah, it was all his choice alright.”

Bobby did not answer. Although he had not seen what exactly was going on here while he was waiting outside, he had a pretty good guess. And he was sure that the image of his blood-sucking brother was playing numbers on Dean’s mood right now.

During the day Sam went through the feeding/coughing cycle 4 more times. Dean’s arms were covered with knife cuts and abused tissue. But he was happy since Sam clearly looked better. The amount of dark liquid coming out of him was getting less and less with each feeding cycle. And also during the last feeding, Dean’s pleadings must have reached to Sam’s ears since he actually had gone easy on his brother.

Dean was tired beyond measure; he was drained both physically and emotionally. Bobby had brought him some food and tons of juice so that he can feed between _the treatments_ ; however the constant smell of blood in the room was not letting him indulge the nutrients. He lay next to his brother, ready for the next sign to cut himself and bleed into his mouth. But sleep gradually took him into its soothing arms. It was, for a change, a dreamless sleep.


	2. Dirty boy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title is from 6th track on Bad Company’s 1986 album "Dangerous Age"

Dean woke up at the sound of the door. He turned to his side in a rush, but relieved seeing his brother sleeping next to him. It was Bobby, entering the room not so quietly to wake him up.

"Good morning sunshine!" he teased Dean.

Dean felt rested, not nearly enough; but he was not as exhausted as before he had fallen asleep… Crap! He had fallen asleep!

"What time is it?"

"It is breakfast time and there is food on the kitchen table?"

"Breakfast?! I slept through the night? I should have continued the… _the treatment_."

"Don't worry. I talked to the healer, we are on schedule. Apparently Sam isn't gonna need _the treatment_ as frequently _._ "

"Thank God! I don't think I have enough space on my body to keep cutting at that rate."

"You go upstairs, freshen up and EAT something. I'll stay here and come get you at the smallest sign."

"Thanks Bobby."

When he got into the kitchen he saw the old lady sitting with her granddaughter. She was prettier than her pictures; laughing heartily at something on the small TV. Her laugh was relaxing; a weird thing, Dean was used to the dreary atmosphere in the house. The contrast between her white teeth and ebony skin was intriguing. Her eyes were glittering with joy. Life was overflowing from her. No wonder the photographs were under-representing her; it was impossible to capture all the liveliness in a still picture.

"Hey there!" Dean was going to make one of his signature moves on the young girl but the healer stopped him. She got up from her chair and caught Dean's bandaged arms. Without leaving her eyes on Dean, she said something in her language, apparently to her granddaughter who translated immediately:

"Why is that your arms are in this shape?"

"Nice meeting you too." Dean continued. But the seriousness of the looks on him stole his good mood. "What were you expecting lady? Feeding blood to a grown up man ain't a dance party."

The girl translated Dean's words to the healer. Dean realized the old lady did not like what she heard; she did not like it at all. First, her face sunk, then she started to yell so fast and loud that Dean had to take couple of steps back; she was scary when she was angry. And she kept yelling for a while… so Dean did not have a chance to understand what was going on when Bobby hurried into the kitchen.

"What the hell is going on here?" he asked. "Dean, for your own sake I hope you were not hitting on a Hoodoo priestess' granddaughter."

"You guys used wrong blood! That's what's going on." the girl replied with anger matching to her granny.

"What do you mean wrong blood? She did not mention any specific blood, the only thing your granny told us that we should use pure blood, without demon touch. And that's what we did." Dean replied; he did not like the attitude the women were giving him.

" _Pure_ as in _virgin_ you dumbass! Not some _no demon touch_ nonsense. What the hell does _no demon touch_ mean anyways?"

"Oh!" Dean was not expecting this one. Before he could ask some of the million questions filling his head, Dean found himself in the arms of the healer.

"What the hell?!"

"Relax, she is going to figure out the damage you did on your brother." the girl answered.

Dean allowed the healer to lay himself down on the couch and waited anxiously while she was murmuring some nonsense ritual into his ear. He jerked with the sharp pain in his finger; the healer must have pricked it and now was rubbing it onto his forehead. He figured his finger was bleeding slightly, he could feel the wetness spreading on his temples.

"Hey! I am loosing enough blood already!"But the healer did not hear his protests, or she simply did not care.

Out of nowhere, his old memories flashed in Dean's mind. They started slowly at first but they gained an incredible speed in no time; became so fast and so bright that he felt nauseous. He could see all the girls he had slept with in his whole life, one after another… even those whom he had forgotten their existence. All the girls, in random motel rooms, in their beds, in their parents' beds, in their husbands' beds, in Impala, in bar toilets, in back streets… all his actions, the dirty actions, the group actions, the kinky actions… everything… every single girl whom he had shared any kind of sensual touch… Dean guessed the healer was somehow watching the same flashbacks. He knew she was going to be pissed; Dean was as far from being a virgin as a demon was from the heaven.

Before the flashback bombardment was over, Dean realized the old woman was murmuring some more mambo-jumbo into his ears. He felt as if something was pushing into his head, hard. Before he could release himself from the invisible grip, a new set of flashbacks started. These ones were not the reminiscence of his past actions per se; they were his fantasies, his daydreams. Some of them were fresh; some of them were from the past that Dean had long forgotten. At first, he followed them with a side of dirty pleasure mixed with tint of shame. But the flashbacks got darker and darker. The healer was slowly reaching to the ones Dean had hidden deeper. When she reached to a particular one, the one he had been conjuring up right after Sam had left for the collage; it was too much to share. Dean had not shared it even with himself for years, kept it deep down somewhere, and forced himself to forget its existence.

When his little brother had left -after everything he had done for him-, Dean had been so angry, felt so betrayed and lost that he had turned to fantasies to dull his anger. He was dreaming on following Sam to Stanford. In some dreams, he found his brother miserable, crying and begging for Dean to take him back. But in some others, he found an overjoyed Sam, no remorse of leaving his brother behind; screwing a cheerleader in his college room. In those dreams Dean got seriously pissed off. He bellowed with rage at his ungrateful brother for leaving his family only to fuck hot college chicks. The rest of the dream was a little bit different for each time, sometimes involving Dean beating the hell out of Sam, kicking him senselessly, breaking his nose, his ribs… but some dreams were involving Dean fucking his Sammy while the younger brother was still on top of the surprised cheerleader… fucking him to hurt him, to damage him, to make him pay for all Dean's sufferings… punishing him like Dean used to be punished.

Before Dean was over with the last flashback attack, he realized the priestess was pushing yet another door in his mind. When he figured it was the door to his older memories, to the scary nights when he was waiting awake in his bed, pretending to be asleep, pretending not to feel anything, sucking it up without a noise so that his baby brother would not wake up to witness his shame… He managed to stop the healer before the door was open and ran away from her. He was not going to re-live his childhood terrors again, and for sure he was not going to let anyone else watch them either. The healer's eyes were locked on his. She did not say anything, but Dean knew she was not happy about what she saw. Trying to wipe out the disturbing images from his mind he asked:

"How bad?"

The women talked to each other for a while; then the girl explained,

"It doesn't look good."

"What do you mean? If this virginity non-sense is such a big deal, how come she did skip it while giving us directions?"

"Cause she was not expecting that you could be such a dork to consider yourself 'pure', you arrogant prick!"

Dean felt stupid. How come he never thought about this? OK, he knew virginity and him were not the closest friends; but how come Bobby, Mr. know-it-all, never thought about this? Hello! witches and virgin blood, not the biggest secret in the world. Oh, how Dean hated witches!

"OK. I got that there is damage. What can we do now? Find a virgin?" he turned his eyes to the young girl and added with a shameless smile, "I do not assume you are a virgin, right?"

The girl gave him a very harsh look and translated his words to her granny. Dean figured that the girl translated all of his words when the healer smacked his head; harder than he expected from someone at her age.

"There is nothing you can do now. You cannot change the blood in the middle of the treatment. Or I should say the type of the blood; you can always use another womanizer."the girl explained the healer's response.  


Dean suspected that the healer shared a little too much of his past with her granddaughter.

"But what's going to happen? We have to know." Bobby asked. After talking to the healer, the girl explained:

"We don't know for sure. Granny says his best chance is that he could be a very talented gigolo."

"That's not bad, not bad at all." Dean winked at Bobby. "Sammy finally gonna get some action. That's good. That's the power of Dean Winchester blood!" But his hope and his broad grin cut short by the rest of the explanation.

"And the worst case is that he might end up as a psychopath rapist who fucks anything he finds."

Dean and Bobby looked at each other in worry; this was something unexpected… weird even for them.

"Come on lady!" Are you telling me if I had not had some good time in the past, my brother would be a saint? But now, he will turn into a sex-maniac? Does this make any sense to you, seriously?"

"We do not know what's really gonna happen. It could be anything in between, could be a short-term thing or could change him forever. It all depends how much of your past leaked into him with your blood. One thing is certain though; we won't be here to find out." The girl explained while helping her granny to walk out.

"Wait a second! You cannot leave now; you gotta help us to fix this."

"You don't get it, do you?" the girl burst in anger, "My granny did one of the hardest, near-impossible spell for your brother, and you guys somehow managed to fuck things up. Now you are asking an old lady and a girl to stay together with a rapist time bomb. No fucking way! And even if we stay, there is nothing we can do. Granny needs at least two weeks to recover her strength back after the spell she pulled last night." After a deep breath, she continued with calmer voice, "I'll give you a call when she is ready, to check on you guys. But for now, we have to go." Before leaving the house she added, "I'm sorry for your brother… but I'd lock him up if I were you."

Dean could not stop them. She was right. Right now the last thing Dean needed was to be obliged to protect innocent people from his brother, who was apparently poisoned by his blood.

"Fuck this shit!" Dean yelled. "Fuck it, fuck it, fuck it!" He was really pissed off. It should have been a cosmic fucking joke that the exact moment he started to get some hope that the universe was back-stabbing him… again.

"Come on boy. We cannot quit now. Let's cross that bridge when we come to it. We don't know, maybe all you'll need to handle is a competitor in the bar stools, huh?" Bobby tried to lighten the mood.

"You’re right" said Dean, not believing any of the words. "I'll check on Sammy." but before he left the room, Bobby stopped him.

"No, you are going to EAT now. Finish that glass of milk too. In case things do not go as we hope, I need someone strong by my side."


	3. Dreams I'll Never See

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title is from 6th track on Molly Hatchet 1978’s album "Molly Hatchet"

The taste of this blood was so good that Sam could feel his body was tingling with pleasure head to toe. He wanted to fill his mouth with it, quaff it, gargle with it… He grabbed the flesh with his teeth to milk more blood, something Ruby had taught him… milking the blood out of the flesh. But comparing this taste to Ruby's would be a sacrilege… this was so delicious... and he was so damn thirsty... He did not want to stop savoring this tasty feast but a very annoying noise at an increasing intensity was making it almost impossible to thoroughly enjoy this luxury. He just wanted to shut the noise off and indulge in this taste. That was when he realized the nagging noise was coming from his older brother:

"Sam, stop it... Sammy, please. You are choking me. Sammy!"

"Dean!?" Sam let Dean go in shock.

Dean was sitting on his bed, crouching next to him trying to catch his breath. Sam looked at him, not knowing what to think:

"What the hell are you doing...? What am I doing?"

"Thank God, you are back Sammy." Dean said after catching his breath. "How are you feeling?"

"Feeling like shit!" and that was the truth, something was seriously wrong; but Sam could not understand what it was. "What is going on?"

"Relax..."

"Is that blood?" Sam checked the red line weeping from Dean's neck down to his naked torso. Then he realized the red smudges on his hands and the infernal taste in his mouth. Everything was indicating a damn thing...

"Was I sucking your blood Dean?"

"Not exactly..."

"Really…? You need to give me a hell of an explanation of everything going on here then, because it sure seems like that's what I was doing."

"OK... Calm down… It was more like… I was feeding you with my blood rather than you were sucking me. How's that for an explanation."

Sam was furious, but he could not talk. A sharp, excruciating pain turned his questions into groans. His stomach was in an agonizing pain as if a wild animal was clawing his entrails.

"Sammy!" Dean was nervous. "Sammy, listen to me. You need to keep going. Trust me, OK?"

Sam wanted to answer, but the pain was not letting him even breathe let alone speak. His agony was growing, throbbing inside him. He was sure his internal organs were torn to little pieces.

"OK Sammy. Just drink it. Drink it, God damn it! Drink!!! Dean stuck his bleeding flesh into Sam's mouth one more time. "Just drink it, you stubborn giant!" he yelled, rubbing his neck to Sam's lips.

After the flavor of the blood reached his taste buds, Sam dug into the bleeding flesh as a reflex. The pain subdued immediately. Now that he was sucking again, the taste was taking his mind away; he was beset by that blessed feeling. He could not help but put his hands around Dean's neck. He needed to drink more, the desire was consuming him inch-by-inch. He felt Dean's hands on his hair; combing his younger brother's hair with his fingers while murmuring to his ear:

"It's OK Sammy. I got you... just be gentle OK… It's OK..."

So it was Dean's blood that was so freaking tasty that made him forget he was sucking human blood. God, it was luscious… better than anything else he tasted in his entire life. The pain was over and the blood was not really flowing anymore but he could not take his mouth away from the flesh. He was savoring every single drop, sliding his tongue over the wound again and again.

Dean realized that Sam was not sucking him anymore. He slightly jerked his head back to see what his brother was doing; but Sam did not allow him. His big hands were around his neck, not letting his brother's flesh away from his mouth.

"Sammy?" Dean asked anxiously. "You all right?"

The hands around his neck were relaxed. Dean raised his head up to look Sam's face. What he saw was an odd mixture of bliss and remorse.

"Sammy, you all right?" Dean asked again.

Sam, coming back to the reality, let him free.

"No… Of course I am not all right Dean. Man...! How could you allow me to do this?"

"It’s no big deal." Dean offered one of his half smiles, "It is not the first time I am bleeding for you, Sasquatch. Remember that freaking accident in Colorado; I had to give you almost 2 pints back then. You are such a pain in the ass!" But he knew Sam needed more than joking around, so he explained the Hoodoo mojo; skipped the whole virginity deal and its consequences, for now.

Sam did not answer, could not. His brother was letting him suck his blood! Like a vampire! Like a fucking vampire! He could see the patches covering Dean's arms and did not need a second guess why Dean needed that much bandages.

"Sammy. Say something." Dean was nervous.

"I… I feel terrible." Tears were gathering in his eyes. "You gave me everything Dean. I was not supposed to do this to you. After everything you have been through, I am sucking your blood like a, like a…"

"Shhh... We’ll deal with your chick flick moments later. Now I want you to gather your strength. We will need to do this again, do you understand? Till you get rid of the last bit of the addiction. And hell, we'll do couple of extra just to make sure. Do you understand? I need you to play along. Suck it up and suck it in."

Sam could not hold his tears any longer. He was crying for Dean, crying for himself, for everything had happened to them, to him… for being a freak, for being a toy for demons... losing every single member of the family one after another… seeing his brother shredded by the hell hounds… not being able to save him, rescue him… living with the guilt and the constant pain. And now, after Dean had pulled up the great escape from hell, he was sucking his brother's blood! As if it wasn't enough that Dean had given his life for him, his soul… No! Apparently he had to take more, Sam Winchester –as a spoiled brat he is- had to take everything his big brother could give.

"I am so sorry Dean. You have done so much for me, I.. I.. shouldn't.."

"Cut it out Sammy. I'll kick your ass once you get better but not now. Not now." Dean hugged him tight, Sammy needed it. Hell! Dean needed that too.

"I got you Sammy. I will always be there for you. You know that."

Sam knew that the only thing that was constant in his upside-down life was Dean. Dean was always there when Sam needed him, always… He clung to his brother; burying his –now too heavy to carry- head into his shoulder, still crying. But the smell of his brother's blood was still lingering on his neck; the dampness on his flesh distracted Sam. He could not help but inhale all the scent in. It was getting into him, making him almost dizzy with a crazy urge. Dean smelled delicious, just like his blood. Sam tried to hold himself, hold his tongue…

"Dean…" he tried to pull himself back before giving in to that urge . But Dean was holding him tight, thinking that his brother was avoiding his touch like a guilty high school girl. Dean held him, squeezed him between his damaged arms; was not going to let his baby brother go.

"Shhh… It's OK."

"Oh! Dean, I can’t help it..." Sam could not hold any longer; he was weak and the temptation was overwhelming. "I am so sorry..."

Dean was expecting these words but not Sam's tongue on his flesh.Dean froze for a moment, not knowing what to do. His brother was scenting him, licking him?!

"Dean…You taste so good…" Sam whispered almost inaudible.

"Sam, what are you doing?!" Dean did not know what to think. Sam's huge hands were spreading on his back. "OK Sammy, that's enough… let go!" The situation now was worse than when Sam had been comatose. Dean still could not reach to his brother as before, but Sam was no longer lying still. Dean realized that fear was slightly building up in his heart; that he was actually afraid of his younger sibling. The thought of calling Bobby for help crossed his mind; but he dismissed it immediately. He did not want anyone seeing them in this situation.

"Sam, enough!" He finally could push his brother with enough force to free himself.

Sam was disoriented; looked up to his standing brother with a bewildered look on his face. His right mind was back again as he was away from the source of the urges.

"I am sorry Dean... I have no idea… I mean, I don't know what got into me man…I am sorry…" he was babbling in shock.

Dean knew what got into him… his tainted blood!

"Just calm down… I think it's some kind of side effect of the treatment." It wasn't a total lie. "Relax now. You need to get some rest."

Either because of the fatigue or the remorse, Sam lay down without uttering any word.

"Just get some rest." Dean said leaving the room. He could not face his brother right now.

xxx

"So how is he?" Bobby asked tending Dean's neck and continued as there was no response from the young man. "You know, the cut doesn’t look half bad this time. It’s a good sign."

"He woke up, Bobby." Dean finally said it. He knew he had to break the news to Bobby, but he was not sure what to say.

"What? He’s awake? Why didn't you tell me earlier?" Bobby was ready to run to the panic-room.

"He’s resting now. He was himself only for a moment… confused with what's going on…"

"I ain’t surprised. Imagine waking up and finding you’re suck-…" Bobby figured it was not a good idea to give voice to such thoughts. "Doesn't matter… he’s getting better. So, why are you in such a peachy mood?"

"Me? I’m just tired."Dean answered with slight shrug.  


But the older man knew better. He knew seeing his brother awake would sweep all Dean's fatigue away. He knew there was more, but also knew it was for the best not to stir up.

"What are we going to do Bobby?"

"On what?"

"You know what… What if he turns out like… like a different kind of monster? What am I supposed to do then Bobby?"

"He won't. Don't listen to the old witch. They love bitching about the worst case all the time."

"Yeah." Dean gave a sad smile to Bobby. He hoped with all his heart that Bobby was right.

xxx

Sam woke up dizzy. It must have been some time he dozed off since it looked pitch dark outside. The dreams that infested his sleep were weird, not nightmare or psychic weird but _what the hell_ weird. He saw Dean, his older brother _in action_ … with girls, so many of them. Some of them Sam knew very well, some not at all. Different girls, different times but always with Dean. The dreams were so realistic that he could feel every single sensation his brother went through, feel the taste of the girls' lips in his mouth, feel their nails over his back, the softness of their breast in his hands, their high-pitch voice, crying Dean's name, in his ears, their warmness around his prick… that made him realize that he had a killer hard-on inside his jeans. He had no idea why he watched a very kinky porn movie as a dream and his brother in the leading role- …and, man! Dean could put on an exquisite show!

Sam could not dwell on the thoughts much longer since a pain, a very familiar and horrifying pain, started to surface. The terror filled the young man. He knew that it would take only moments for this pain to reach to the torture level. He also knew what would stop it. But could not bring himself to call his brother as if he was going to ask a glass of water. He could not call Dean to suck his blood, just could not do it. The claws were smashing his inside again. The pain became unbearable very fast and Sam could not hold his screams any longer.

Dean stormed into the room. It did not take him even a minute to take his shirt off, cut his neck and put the healing powder on himself. He crouched over his lying brother and bled to his mouth again. Sam's pain dimmed immediately, he was sucking his brother quietly now.

"Dean…"

"You should continue... don't stop."

"Can I… I mean.. I can't drink like this"

Dean were confused at first, then realized the position they were in was not the best for Sammy to drink anything.

"I… I don't wanna hurt you but I can’t do it at this position without… you know… biting you." The shame was pouring from his eyes.

"OK." All Dean could say. He let his brother rise and stoop over him. "Apparently you’re not as elastic as that red-haired waitress I told you about." He winked to his brother. He was not actually in the mood but had to joke around; Sammy was really down with his shame. And seeing that tiny little smile on his younger brother's eyes was worth the effort. Sam was not hurting him; he was sucking gently… no more biting in the flesh, no more pocking the tongue into the wound. And this time he did not dwell on the cut after the bleeding stopped.

Sam lay down on his bed; trying to clean his lips from the blood. Watching his brother, Dean saw something very disturbing: his brother's prick was wiggling inside his jeans.

"Sammy…?" He did not how to ask. "You feel alright?"

"Just as I’m supposed to feel after sucking my brother's blood: peachy!" The sarcasm in his voice calmed Dean a bit. "Give me the first-aid kit; let's take care of that cut."

Dean let his brother tend him. The sadness, remorse and shame in Sam's eyes would normally be painful for him to witness, but today it was different. It showed that his brother did not turn into a monster, that he was still human.

"Dean can I ask you a question?" Sam asked after he was done tending the wound.

"OK?" Dean was expecting a whining 'Francis'.

"Did you ever… did you sleep with Lisa McDowell?"

"What?" This was unexpected.

"Just answer my question. You slept with her, didn't you?"

"Sam… I don't even know…"

"Don't lie to me, Dean. You remember her. I was in love with her."

"You were 13 then. 13 years olds don't fall in love. They fall into boobs."

"Yeah… that's what you told me back then too."

Dean did not say anything; did not know what to say.

"You did it to punish her, right?" Sam continued.

"Sammy… I… Why are you asking these questions? What difference does it make?"

"I just…Just tell me."

"OK. I did it. I slept with your high school love who by the way was the greatest bitch I have ever known. Happy now?"

"I just… I just can't believe you did it! She was just a kid, man."

"She humiliated you in front of the whole school. And school was important for you Sammy. By the way, she was so not just a kid; she was an arrogant, cruel young bitch. Girls can be real monsters when they are 15. Dude, she was such a smug that she actually did believe she could tempt me after all she had done to you, to my brother. Stupid bitch! At least I humiliated her discretely, God knows she deserved worse."

"I would never have imagined that you could enjoy doing something like that." Sam sounded so sure that Dean could not deny it. He just kept his silence. "I am not being judgmental Dean, just genuinely surprised."

"Let's cut it out, shall we?" Dean was uneasy with this topic. He had questions of how on earth his brother knew all these; but he was sure he would not want to know. "Sammy, I’m tired, I’m constantly losing blood here. Excuse me if I’m not in the mood to dwell in your tragic(!) adolescent love life." There, he just stopped Sam but at what cost. The sorrow in his brother's eyes was digging into his heart. " _Perfect!_ " He thought. " _Just perfect_."


	4. Dream on

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title is from 3rd track on Aerosmiths’ 1973 album, "Aerosmith".

"So, when are you gonna tell me what's happening in there?" Bobby asked.

"Nothing worth telling." Dean answered without raising his eyes from his plate.

"Yeah, and I'm the mother goose. You gotta share it sooner or later, you know."

Dean did not answer this time. Bobby was right, sooner or later, he had to let Bobby in that room. But he preferred later than sooner.

"Let me check on him." Dean got up from his chair, "I think it's time to suckle." And before waiting for an answer from the old man, he left the kitchen.

xxx

When Dean lay down next to him, Sam did not say anything; just skit to the side to leave some space for his older brother. He was busy with the memories flowing in his mind; not his memories though. It did not take him too long to understand what was going on with all those weird dreams. They were Dean's memories, his secret memories, kind of memories that you don't want to share with anyone else. Sam knew them all, felt them all, lived them all. Possibly he could remember them better than his brother right now. Dean scored way too many women to remember each one; but Sam lived all of them in past couple of days, he kept re-living them with same intensity again and again. He could taste the flavor of each kiss, smell the aroma of each woman, live the climax of each orgasm his brother went through.

The dreams made him so horny that Sam had a constant boner. It was not too bad at the beginning; but it became really painful in time. He really needed to relieve himself soon, again… He knew some of the pain was due to excessive masturbation, he lost track how many times he jacked off since yesterday. He was afraid he was going to tear his skin off if he continued at this rate.

"Dean?"

"If you're gonna start with your sorry feelings, it's not the time man. I'm hiding here to avoid chatting with Bobby."

"Don't worry; I'm saving my chick-flick moments for the road trips." Finally there was something that could be called as resemblance of a smile on Dean's face. "I was gonna ask… I need…" Damn! There was no easy way to ask for lubricant from your older brother, especially in the bed where you were constantly sucking his blood…

"What?" Dean was curious now, scanned his brother's face with curious eyes.

"I need some… some cream… for…"

"Are you serious?!" Dean was laughing, actually he was cracking up. "You're seriously asking for cream, in a freaking panic room, in this freaking situation? This is just hilarious, Samantha. What happened, your hands are dry?"

It was easier to be made fun of; Sam could not imagine the response from his brother if he had mentioned the real reason. And it was always good to see Dean cracking up; Sam missed hearing his laughter, he missed it a lot.

xxx

Sam started to think that he was actually hooked up to his brother's blood now. Yes, the intensity of the pain hitting him before each feeding was not as bad anymore, the rate of the attacks decreased too; but… but the taste was not changing, it was not getting old. It still gave him immense pleasure; sucking Dean's blood, sucking it from his flesh, the taste, the smell, the aroma... He wanted to hate himself for it, but… oh, this taste… it was pure bliss. The way it was flowing through his lips, spreading over his tongue, its warmth filling his mouth… He had never experienced anything like this. Yes, he was hooked up to Ruby's blood before, but it had nothing to do with the taste. The taste of all the other blood he tried, demon blood that is, had been actually disgustingly repelling. He had had to force himself to swallow each time. But Dean's… oh Dean!

He looked at his brother from the corner of his eye while savoring his blood. There was a little bit pain on Dean's face and Sam felt horrible for causing it; but it was not enough for him to stop. He could not stop, while the blood was still pouring between his lips, and all those sweet memories swarming his mind. The pleasure was not only due to the taste –although only the taste would be more than enough to make him addicted- but it was also due to the kick coming from those memories. Each time he was drinking Dean's blood, the memories became alive again; he could feel everything as if he was living them right at that moment. The intensity of the pleasure was overwhelming at first, but now Sam could take them all. There was no way Sam would stop; he was going to enjoy it to the end.

Suddenly one of the new memories turned out frightening, really frightening. He already had seen all the different kinkiness Dean had been into time to time, the ropes, the whips, the blades –Dad's blades for crying out loud! What was Dean thinking?- a little bit of pain to spice things up. Not so much Sam's style; but the pleasure, Dean's pleasure, coming with them was so intense, he enjoyed them all the same. But this time, although he still felt the buzz Dean had felt, it was different… Sam was in it. There was no way it could be one of Dean's memories. There was no way Dean could do such thing to Sam, to his Sammy. And also, Sam would have remembered if someone had fucked him in the ass, or if he had scored a cheerleader –that he would definitely have remembered. This was sick… it was sick even for a guy who enjoys the taste of his own brother's blood. It was sick to have a memory of being fucked –no, raped for goodness sake- by his brother; it was even worse to feel his pleasure while doing it. Would Dean really enjoy something like this? Would he really enjoy it this much? Sam could feel the very sensation of entering his own ass, ripping it apart, pumping in it harder and harder, hearing his own screams – and fucking enjoying all of these. This was sick alright!

He could not continue any longer; had to stop. The bleeding was almost ceased anyways. But stopping did not change the memories; they became his memories already. He knew he was going to feel the sick pleasure of fucking his own ass for a while. Sam looked at his brother's face to make some sense out of this madness.

"What? Why are you staring me like that dude?"

Sam lowered his eyes. He could still feel the sensation of coming into his own ass; and the worst part, it made him horny, again.

"This is fucked up!"

"I told you, we'll keep doing this till…" Dean answered almost automatically.

"I don't mean this… this blood sucking fucked up… I mean… damn!"

"If you have something more fucked up than sucking my blood, little brother, I think I'd be jealous."

" _If you only knew_ …" thought Sam. He was confused. If these were not Dean's memories, does that mean they were his fantasies? Like the ones with Megan Fox? Sam enjoyed those ones too, but he was sure Dean was never close to her to do any of the stuff he did -oh, the stuff he did with Megan Fox… Sam knew his brother's obsession with her; it had to be one of his fantasies. It sure felt like real though, at least to Sam. But this last thing, even as a fantasy it could not be possible. He could not help but look at his brother's face again, to see a sign, any sign... There was no way Dean would even think such a thing. Never!

"Dude, don't look at me like that. You are freaking me out."

"Sorry Dean… I have to go…" said Sam, and continued as Dean gave him that curious look. "to the bathroom of course, where else?"

"Dude, does my blood loosen your bowels? How many times does a man go to bathroom in a day?"

Sam wished that his bowels were the only reason he was using the bathroom. He secured the cream in his pocket and walked after Dean to the bathroom. " _Let's see how it's gonna feel like to jerk off over raping your own ass."_

_xxx_

Dean woke up with the whimpers of his brother. He could recognize a nightmare when he saw one; he had woken Sam up just like this, way too many times.

"OK, Sammy. It was just a nightmare. It's over now."

Sam finally woke up, fear and pain was written all over his face. He looked at his older brother, tears were blocking his sight, he had been crying in his sleep.

"Sammy, it's OK." Dean said. He could only offer words for his brother's pain.

"It's not OK Dean. And it wasn't _just_ a nightmare." Sam was hysterical. "I had no idea Dean… I could… have never thought… I… I…"

"Shhh… What is it Sammy?" He looked at his brother with compassion. But Sam could not answer. The pain was too much for him now, the horror was too fresh. He hugged Dean, squeezed him; comforting him as well as himself. Dean let him be for a while; waited till his little brother's sobs were quite.

"You feel better?"

But Sam could not feel better, not anytime soon. It was something to share his brother's very busy sex life –Dean loved boasting about his ladies anyway-; it was a totally different thing to have firsthand experience to his _daddy issues_.

Sam should have known; he should have recognized it. It was so obvious… but sometimes it was the most obvious thing that you would miss. Now everything made sense; Sam could put all the pieces together: Dean's blind faith in his father, his fixation of pleasing him all the time and always finding excuses for him, his sucky romantic life, his over-protection of his little brother... How come Sam had been so blind… so clueless? Had he intentionally chosen not to see all the signs because he had not wanted to deal with the problem? Had he deliberately left his brother alone in his own torment for all those years?

No! He honestly had not had the slightest clue. He had not turned a blind eye to all those signs; he was just plain stupid. It had never occurred to him that Dean might have needed someone, needed his snotty little brother. Sam had believed that he had a super hero as a brother; genuinely believed that no human can actually hurt Dean Winchester. Yeah, just plain stupid…

"It wasn't your fault, you know." Sam whispered; he could finally understand the reason behind the constant guilt his brother felt for anything and everything ever happened around them, why he had such low self-worth, why he could not live away from this self-destructive life. "It wasn't your fault, Dean."

"What the hell are you talking about?"

"Dean, I…" There was no way Sam could talk about it; at least for now. "I love you man."

"Me too, Sammy. Now rest. You look like a mess."


	5. When the levee breaks

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title is from 8th track in Led Zeppelin 1971 album, "Led Zeppelin IV"

"Sam, cut it out, man. What the fuck you're doing?"

"You know what I'm doing… you know it very well. You felt it before and enjoyed it. Oh, you enjoyed it way too much, Dean. I think now it is time for you to feel my side of the action."

"Sammy, stop it!"

But stopping was the last thing Sam wanted to do. He pressed down on his older brother and kept licking the blood drops running on his shoulders.

"Dean, if you only knew this taste! Believe me, you would understand. You taste fucking amazing. Fucking amazing… you hear me, amazing!"

Dean heard him; had heard him the first 100 times. He felt powerless under Sam's weight. He had no idea how it was possible for his younger brother to have so much strength, after weeks of nothing but lying in the bed.

Sam pinned his brother's hands next to his body. His grab was so tight that Dean was sure there would be marks on his wrists. He knew his brother was done with sucking his blood a while ago. There was no way to have that much blood on his body anyway; Sam's mouth was all over his shoulders.

"You remember this position Dean?" Sam continued without waiting him to respond. "Just don't lie to me since I already know the answer. I lived it thanks to your blood; me on top of that blonde cheerleader, you pinning me face down, exactly like this."

Dean knew the position alright; the healer had given him a quick reminder course just past week.

"I know, Dean. I know everything about you. No more secrets between us? I actually know more than I'd like to." He nibbled his brother's ear. "But, there is this thing now. I'm so fucking horny Dean. I'm going crazy! It's been a week. I just can't take it anymore. I'm losing my mind and you're the only reason. I do remember that red-haired waitress, in Wyoming, you know... Man, she could bend! And her mouth on you… I can feel her spit –which tasted like fresh strawberries that you fed her; I know that too- covering my dick, I can feel it right now. She was so… oh, fuck!"

Sam was grinding his prick to his brother's buttocks. His breath was hot; burning Dean's neck.

"I tried Dean, I swear. Hell, I was jerking off every other hour for a week now. But nothing helps, NOTHING! I don't think it'll be over just by myself. It just doesn't feel like how you felt. The way you're pounding them Dean... The way they're screaming your name… The way you poured in them… I gotta feel the same way. It'll be over then. I'm sure it'll be over then. It gotta be..."

Sam was now gnawing on his brother's jaw; his slaver slowly spreading on Dean's face.

"Sammy… Just wait a minute OK? Let me arrange a nice red-hair for you, huh? I know you need to get laid… but… dude not with your brother! Come on!"

But Sam kept biting his flesh without even hearing him, soft bites, just enough to leave shallow marks on Dean's skin. Dean saw the delirious look in his brother's eyes; Sam wasn't there. He tried to reach him one more time.

"Sammy, I am gonna bring you the best fucking whore in whole South Dakota, just let me go for a minute. OK?"

"You don't understand… It has to be you, Dean, has to be. Your taste is taking my mind away. The way you smell lying next to me. Do you know how hard it is? Huh? To taste you every fucking day, inhale all the sweet smell of your blood, your body… but not being able to quench the thirst. It just kept growing inside Dean." Sam inhale a long breath in, his nose was grazing over his brother's bloody shoulders. "You are gonna love it, too. I'll make sure of it. I swear it's not gonna be like with dad."

It was then, Dean lost his cool. He panicked. He knew panicking was no help, it would never help; but he could not stop the horror rising inside him.

"Please Sammy… Please…Just listen to me for second…" He was at the edge, losing control of his thoughts.

"But Dean… It's not my idea, remember. It was completely your fantasy. I guess I have to thank dad to make your fantasyland so wicked. Don't you remember how much you were enjoying my pleadings, my screams? I do remember. You were so hard Dean while dry fucking me; while I was begging you to stop, huh? While grasping my hair to press my face to the girl's breasts, remember?"

"Sammy, it wasn't real man. I'd never… Sammy, please… no!" Dean started to beg when he felt his brother's hand unbuttoning his jeans. "Please Sammy…" He had to get the control of himself. He had to pass this horror. It was not a fucking nightmare; he should be able to do something. Dean tried to lift himself, but Sam pressed him down harder. Why was his brother so strong all of a sudden? Actually the real question was why Dean was so weak.

" _Pull it together Dean_." He begged himself inside. " _You know Sam needs you to be strong now. You can't let him do this to you, to himself_."

"Shhh… I told you… I'm not going to be harsh on you. Not like him, never gonna hurt you like him. I am not doing this to punish you Dean. Not like in your dream either; see I have something to help you." Sam showed the almost-finished cream jar to Dean. "It's gonna be fun. Just relax, OK?"

Dean felt all his power drained from his body. He could not even lift a hand. His worst nightmare was happening all over again. After all these years, he could not believe he was in the same miserable, powerless situation.

"I want you to enjoy it, Dean. I want to see your pleasure too. I love you. I love you so much!" Sam's hands were already between Dean's buttocks. Dean felt the creamy fingers massaging his asshole.

"Don't fight it!" Sam growled. His breath was now short and heavy. He shoved his fingers into the narrow channel while stripping Dean' jeans by using his feet. "Oh Dean, you are so hot in there!" His voice was trembling with ecstasy.

After a while of massaging the hole to prepare it for the ride, Sam finally took his long fingers out of Dean. He lifted himself a little, securing his brothers leg between his own and keeping an arm over his abused arms, single handedly stripped his jeans. He knew he did not have to hold Dean secure. Even if he let him free, Dean could not run away right now. He was stuck in the horrors of his oldest nightmare.

"You know what surprised me most, Dean? The way you were longing for it after it was over. He wasn't looking at you that way anymore; you know when you finally grew up. But instead of being grateful for your luck, you felt bad. You felt you had lost his loving(!) touch. And this is just disturbing, isn't it…wanting him to touch you again, while being scared to death for the possibility of it. You are a sick boy Dean, very sick…"

"Please…" only thing Dean could say. Together with the terror, the shame he closely knew rose inside Dean. And he lost himself in the very familiar guilt. He knew he deserved it. He deserved everything his brother had planned for him. He was a sick bastard, had a rape fantasy for his baby brother because he was jealous of his happiness away from him, from them. He deserved to be punished… But not by his Sammy… not by him, oh please god, not by him.

Sam slid both of them down on the bed. He was now standing on his feet while pressing Dean's body down to bed.

"Ready Dean?" He asked with an almost cruel smile on his face; watching his brother's body twitching with fear and anxiety. While opening the entrance with one hand, he slid his slippery prick in the hot cavity. He took his time, moved smoothly, savoring each moment. Dean was tight, tighter than anything Sam had experienced. The entrance of his ass was clenching over Sam's prick; not letting him move comfortably.

"Don't be such a tight guy, Dean. You're gonna cause more pain than I intended to" But Sam loved the tightness. He loved it that he had to force himself in. He loved scrapping thorough the gate to reach the soft velvety surface waiting inside. He let himself drift in his brother slowly.

Dean was now crying quietly. His tears were running down to bed, but there was no sound coming out of him. A very familiar situation he was in. He was stripped from his strength together with his clothes, he could not even hope for release. He kept his mouth shot, let his tears run and waited for everything to be over. It would be over, it always had.

After the root of his prick reached to the reddened rim, Sam retracted himself back with relish. Oh, how smoothly he was sliding inside Dean now. The warm, soft walls surrounding him, hugging him… just like in his memory, in Dean's fantasy… just like as Dean had felt while fucking him –OK, imagining it; but the feeling was no different-.

"Oh, Dean this is so good." He said through his clenched jaw. "I hope you started to enjoy yourself too."

Sam kept going in and out of his brother with a slightly increased pace. His hands were now roaming over the young man's body, as if memorizing how each and every muscle twitched under his constant rocking. He let his fingers go over the knife scars, surrounded by his teeth marks. The scars gave him the morbid idea: It was a perfect time to savor a nice drink, to double the pleasure. He reached the blade lying next to the bed; let it wander over his brother's skin for a while.

The cold steel made Dean's body shiver. He realized his situation could get even worse. The hopelessness left its place for alarm. But he could not dare to make any noise.

"I thought you liked playing with blades." Sam smiled. "Don't worry Dean. I'm not gonna cut too deep. Only very little to taste you, to make this moment perfect." Then, he opened a shallow but long cut on his brother's back. A bright, red line was now extending between Dean's shoulders. Without changing his pace, Sam brought his face down to the bloody line; inhaled the sweet smell in. Then, he stuck his tongue out a little and licked a drop. The pleasure made his cock dance inside the tight cacoon. He let himself taste yet another drop; let it swirl in his mouth and without realizing he increased his pumping speed.

"Dean…oh Dean… you have no idea…" He had always loved his big brother; but now he loved him more than he thought it could be possible. "I love you Dean, I fucking love you."

Dean did not respond. He was busy feeling the massive cock brutalizing his ass… feeling his brother's tongue over his back, his moans in his ears… He knew Sam was not going to leave him easy; he knew in matter of minutes he would start pounding him hard and fast. He was trying to be ready. And the dreaded moment arrived. Sam held his brother's neck down, tight and secure. His other hand was holding tight on his hip. He bit around the bleeding cut and started sucking, while pounding Dean.

Dean was in agony. Sam was chewing over his back; but he could hardly register the pain inflicted by his brother’s ruthless teeth. His ass was on fire, torn by the initial ramming. Although he had tried, Sam was not patient enough to prepare his ass adequately for this treatment. Every time Sam was forcing himself deeper, Dean could feel something was ripping apart a little bit more. And every time, Sam was pushing even faster and harder. Dean was not surprised when he felt something warm was dripping between his thighs. He barely found enough strength in him to hope he would not need stitches. He just needed to calm down; try to relax his muscles, try to forget about the pain, try to forget about who was causing this pain… It would be over soon, very soon…

Sam came roaring Dean's name, filled his brother's ass with his cum. He continued the rocking motion a little longer after he was done, and then let himself out. He dropped all his weight on his brother, kissing him passionately. His hands were caressing Dean's stubborn hair, his lips were all over his body; kept murmuring love words in Dean's ears.

"Love you Dean… you are great… so good… so sweet… so delicious…"

Dean did not make any noise. It was finally over. He could still feel the burning pain as if his brother’s prick was still inside him but at least the brutal pounding was over. And Dean knew very well that physical pain was quick to fade; he could leave this room and bury everything happened here down to the memory graveyard. He just needed to wait, just a little longer; maybe till Sam was asleep.

But Sam was not planning to sleep, not now at least. After he caught his breath, he stood up and turned his brother face up. He watched him for a while. Dean kept his eyes glued on the wall, avoiding his brother's gaze by all means. Tears made his green eyes even more glittering. They were dark green now. Sam love Dean's eyes, whatever shade they were did not matter, loved the look in his brother's eyes. His dark eyelashes were sticky wet, covering the glittering eyes like a silk veil. Sam watched the cut marks on his brother’s body. It was like a crazy art-décor over the tight muscles, it looked just beautiful. He watched slight rise and fall of his brother's chest, the nipples were hard, probably with the pain and abuse, but it did not matter to Sam; he kept savoring the view.

"Dean, you are so beautiful. Man, I love you. I love you more than you could ever love me."

Dean had learnt long ago how not to register the words; it was like riding a bike. They meant nothing. He was used to the apologies, promises, cuddling coming after the punishments. They never meant anything. He kept waiting; it would be over. Soon.

Sam added, watching the destitute penis lying in front of him:

"But, I can't leave you like this, right? Without reliving you? It wouldn't be love now, would it?"

No answer from Dean as expected. Sam slid down over his brother and quickly took his prick into his mouth.

Dean was surprised, but did not move; he was just gonna lie still till Sam fed up playing with his body. But his own body too betrayed him. He felt his prick was waking up in Sammy's wet mouth. Dean knew some of that wetness was his own blood that Sammy sucked from his, now aching, back. Sam was good at what he was doing, to the point; without dwelling on unnecessary teasing, he went directly to the action. Dean felt two long fingers entering to his tormented ass, again. He was sure that there was no way he could feel any pleasure over this much abuse and pain; but human body proved itself incredible. When Sam's fingers found the patch inside him, his prick just roared in his brother's mouth; regardless of the agony he went through only moments ago.

Sam loved the taste of the cock inside his mouth. It was Dean's, smelled like Dean, and tasted like Dean. He rubbed his finger on the little node inside his brother. He just wanted him to cum to his mouth. He was curious of the taste. He tasted everything Dean had –willingly or unwillingly- offered so far; his flesh, his sweat, tears and blood. And he loved each and every one of it. Now, it was time to try his cum; Sam was sure it was going to be spectacular.

Before long, Dean came. He could not help but watch Sam's face while his balls pushed their load in his warm mouth. He watched him swallowing every drop spilled in his mouth and reaching for his cock for the rest. The pleasure on his face was unbelievable.

Sam stood up again, pulled his brother back to the bed and let him lie down; scooped next to him immediately, hugged him, covered him while kissing his face, lips. Dean could smell his cum from the lips roaming over his face; but controlled himself not to throw up. It would be over soon, very soon, very soon…


	6. Gimme Shelter

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title is from 1st track in Rolling Stones 1969 album, "Let it bleed".

Sam was vomiting his insides out. The retched pain inside him was unbearable. Dean was trying to hold him steady since Sam's body was going through a strong, everlasting seizure and he was not necessarily keeping his mouth downward to safely spew the contents of his stomach. It's been over 15 minutes now and he kept throwing up, constantly. The floor was covered with the red goo he was spitting out and more was still coming. Dean, without knowing what else to do, tried to keep his brother steady and prevent him choking on his own vomit.

After half an hour of constant struggle, finally it was over. Sam was lying unconscious in the pool of red goo. Dean got up, put his jeans and shirt on and opened the door to let Bobby in. Bobby had run down when he first heard Sam shrieking with agony, but could not enter the locked room. Dean had kept the door locked after first day of the treatment. And Bobby never had the courage to ask why.

"What the hell happened here?" Bobby asked looking at half-naked, passed out Sam.

"Help me lift him, Bobby." Dean was tired beyond measure; he could not carry his brother alone right now, hardly carrying himself. After laying Sam down to the bed, he collapsed next to him, lying; the horrid pain in his ass was not going to let him sit for a while.

"Son, what happened?" Bobby demanded an answer.

"I don't know Bobby. I just can’t… I'm tired Bobby, exhausted really." And that was the truth. He could sleep for a week. And what else was he supposed to say? " _My brother raped me like a mofu and thanks to his golden heart, he made me come too. But I guess you are not supposed to drink the sperm of a person as a side dish to his blood…he threw up every fucking drop he sucked during last week._ " Of course not! "I'll call the priestess for some answers when I got some rest, OK." And not being able to wait for an answer sunk into a very deep sleep.

xxx

Sam woke up with an awful taste in his mouth. His stomach was growling and he was damn thirsty. When he tried to get up, realized Dean was sleeping next to him. And suddenly the memory of their last hour poured into his mind. He jumped to his feet, could not bring himself to believe that the memories were real. He looked around the mess they were in; someone -probably Bobby- had tried to clean up; but the room needed to be cleansed with quicklime at the very least. Sam turned his gaze to Dean; his brother's face was so pale… They were real! He really had done those horrible things! He could see the scar covered arms of his brother; also the mark of his tight hands right over the wrists. An ugly purple was encircling the hands that always held Sam with tenderness. And Sam knew he had inflicted many more scars, deeper scars, invisible scars.

He could read Dean's pain on his sleeping face; his sleep was way far from being peaceful. The traces of dried tears on his cheeks smashed Sam's heart into million pieces. Dean's grievous pleadings filled his ears again. His brother, who had always took care of him, protected him, fuck! he had gone to hell for him… he had kept begging for him to stop, to stop torturing him, to stop raping him. But Sam had not stopped, he had enjoyed the pleas both loud and silent, he had enjoyed Dean's suffering, his tears!

Sam started to cry… his guilt was like big, barbed lump in his throat, like a heavy, fiery burden on his shoulder. He could not keep standing, collapsed to his knees next to his brother, and prayed. Prayed for Dean… Prayed to Dean… Prayed for absolution.

"Sam?" Dean was awake. There was a hint of fear in his voice, but it was full of compassion as always.

"Oh Dean… I… I can't even ask for forgiveness…"

"Are you in pain again? You lost all the blood..." asked Dean like nothing had happened.

"I wish I was… I wish I was in such an agony that… that…" Sam could not continue. He grabbed his older brother's hands, buried his face in them and kissed them franticly while his tears kept pouring down nonstop. He could have stayed in this position forever –which probably how long it would take for Dean's scars to be healed- but Bobby entered the room and cut his repentance.

"Sam? Boy, are you OK?" Bobby lifted him up and hugged him tight and secure; not caring the filth on him. "You scared us to death!"

"I… I’m OK. Bobby." Sam released himself from the old man's hug. He was not feeling worthy of any kind of affection right now.

"I think you lost too much of the… the treatment. Are you sure you feel alright. No pain?"

"No… I’m good." Sam could not even look at Bobby's face. He knew Bobby had no idea what he had done to his older brother. He knew Dean would never tell anyone, and not because of his shame but to protect Sam.

Bobby sensed the oddity in the air. But he did not want to dwell on it. Sam was finally up and that was enough for Bobby.

"How you doing Dean?" He asked the silent figure.

"I had better days Bobby."

"There is breakfast on the kitchen table."

"I think I'll pass for now." Dean was tired. And his appetite was not available at the moment.

"Come on Dean. You need to eat to gather your strength boy." Bobby was not going to let him easy. Sam intervened:

"Let me bring it            here. Dean is tired." And he fled the room, without giving any chance for Bobby or Dean to stop him.

"So…" Bobby sat down next to Dean. "When are we celebrating?"

Dean only gave him the curious look, raising an eyebrow.

"Your brother is up and around." the older man explained, surprised at the need for an explanation.

"We don't know it yet. For all I know, he might go through another puking frenzy." Explained Dean and added with almost visible distress in his voice, "By the way, I don't think we should let him roam free in the house just yet."

"Aren't you a glass half full?!" Bobby rolled his eyes. He knew there was a chance, but hell no! He was not going to let the possibilities darken his mood. Sam was awake, looked healthy, not in pain. He was going to enjoy it as long it lasts. But it didn't mean he was not going to be more careful. He could be both; happy and careful.

Sam entered the room with the over-easy egg, sausages and bacon. He gave the food to his brother but made sure he did not touch him; could not bear to see his brother flinching at his touch. Sam watched him eating. It was not like Dean at all; the small bites, the long chewing, leaving most of the food in his plate…  


"Oh aren't you two party animals! What is it with you boys? You behave like we have a funeral to attend."

"I am sorry Bobby. You are right. I just… don't feel like celebrating after all I put you guys through." Sam said with all his honesty. He preferred to be in a dungeon right now; tortured by demons... away from the people he loved and hurt so deeply.

xxx

Sam could see the pain his brother going through with the every step he took. Dean tried to hide it, and he could hide his feelings alright; only not from Sam. And after all the memories they had shared, now Sam could read Dean like an open book; could see the pain, the grief, the heavy burden of betrayal crashing his heart. But he could not do anything to help his brother. After the initial apology Sam had given him right after they had woken up, they did not talk about 'it'. Sam could not bring himself to even slightly indicate what he had done. He was terrified to see the heartbreaking look on his brother’s face. And Dean, being Dean, was not going to come close to the subject before hell freezes.

It had been 2 days since the last treatment and the intensive vomiting; but the pain had not visited Sam yet. He was not longing for blood anymore, only for regular food. His excessive lust was over too. No more dreaming up how to fuck his older brother either. But the memories of Dean's past were still with him. His sleep was still infested with Dean… some happy dreams like Dean with Megan Fox; but mostly nightmares, Dean with dad or worse, Dean with himself.

He remembered everything he had done to his brother, down to the smallest detail. No wonder Dean had never mentioned anything about him and dad. When Sam finally had learnt about his brother's abused childhood, look what he had done. He learnt the horror Dean went through night after night when he was growing up, the pain, the shame, the loneliness… and he shamelessly used this knowledge to manipulate his brother's terror for his sick desires… and that was a whole new level of low.

Sam knew the reason behind 'him being a raging bull' during the treatment. Bobby had told him about the virginity deal; he had to explain why Sam cannot leave the house -or the panic room in that matter- till the priestess gave him OK. But knowing the reason was not giving any comfort to Sam. He knew what he had done. He knew the damage he had caused and there was nothing he could do to change it. There was no excuse which could make Sam feel any better; he did not deserve to feel any better. And there was no way he would put the blame on his brother's blood for raping him for god’s sake. The least he could do was, for once, to take the responsibility of his actions.

xxx

Sam woke up to a strange feeling of being watched and saw Dean was sitting next to him. Afraid of making any sounds, afraid of scaring his brother away, he carefully searched for his eyes... to check whether it would be possible to catch his gaze, just for once. His brother did not turn his eyes away; first time since Sam's last transgression against him. He did not do anything; he kept watching Sam. After a while Sam felt he had to be the one breaking the silence.

"Dean?"

"Yes, Sammy."

He called him Sammy?! He looked at his eyes and also called him Sammy. It was a good sign. It was freaking great! Sam felt the incredible rejoice filling his heart by hearing his brother's husky voice calling his nickname.

"Everything alright?" Sam's voice was cracking up.

"Yes."

They kept staring at each other for a while, no word, no movement. After a while, Dean lifted his hand and placed it on his little brother's forehead. For a moment he kept his hand right there without moving it, and then slowly caressed the hair. Sam gulped back a huge sob, was so ready to cry.

"I… I just needed to see you." Dean said.

Sam rose swiftly and hugged his brother tight, real tight… he wanted to show him he was there when Dean needed him, to show that he was never, ever going to let him go. Not that there was anywhere else Dean could go. Even after everything he had done to his brother, Dean still came back to him. There was no one else who could comfort him or ease his pain, no one else. They had no one else… only each other.

"I'm so sorry Dean." Sam summoned all his courage and managed to speak between his silent sobs. "I know it's not gonna make it any better after what I've done… but I just want you to know… I'd prefer to be…"

"Shush…" Dean silenced him pressing his finger over Sam's lips. "I don't wanna talk about it. Actually, I don't wanna talk at all, Sammy. I just need…"

And Sam knew what his brother needed. He hugged him between his long arms and pulled him down next to him, turned him to his side and spooned him tight. The same position Dean had held him since Sam could remember, after every nightmare, every bad day, every misfortune they had been through… Dean placed his head on his brother's wide arm and turned himself to a tight ball; let Sam's arms cover him completely; let himself lost in his hug. Sam placed a kiss to his brother's head and murmured the very same words he had heard from him over and over, all his life:

"It's OK, Dean; I got you… I'm here... I'm not going to leave you, Dean… I promise…"


End file.
